The Hollow Man
by MelodyApril
Summary: Severus Snape is in trouble. His Dark Mark has begun to burn. He needs to return to Dumbledore, but he's run out of the potion that keeps his horrible guilt at bay. While on a search for potion ingredients, he finds a woman who will test his resolve fo


This is the dead land. 

_This is cactus land._

_Here the stone image,_

_Are raised, here they receive,_

_The supplication of a dead man's hand._

_Under the twinkle of a fading star._

_It is like this,_

_In death's other kingdom,_

_Waking alone,_

_At the hour when we are,_

_Trembling with tenderness,_

_Lips that would kiss,_

_Form prayers to broken stone._

_                ~ T. S. Eliot -- excerpts from" The Hollow Men"_

                After thirteen years, the dark mark had come back to Severus Snape.  He stared at the faint shape on his arm.  He sat in the middle of a giant forest, far away from England and Hogwarts, but his memories felt like they were about to overwhelm him.

                It was his summer holiday, and he had decided before the end of term to go camping for a few weeks to clear his mind.  Everything had been quiet and pleasant until this morning, when he'd felt an itching, crawling feeling under his skin.  When he had rolled up his sleeve, he saw the outline of the mark that had caused him so much torment.  Even though he had renounced Voldemort, he could never be free.

                With this new pain throbbing in his arm, Severus collected his supplies.  It was time to leave.  He had one more stop to make before returning to England.  He had postponed this last errand for far too long, and he could delay no longer.

                He needed the potion that would fortify his courage and steady his resolve.  He would have to tell Dumbledore that Voldemort's strength was returning.

Severus decided he liked Pittsburgh on rainy days.  He had visited the city in the summer months before, but always found it hot, muggy, and the streets packed with muggles.   But on this day the rain cleared the downtown sidewalks of pedestrians.  Gray clouds loomed over the tall buildings and narrow streets.  The atmosphere reminded him of his damp dungeon home at Hogwarts.  

He walked down Fifth Avenue at a sharp pace with his black cape billowing behind him.  He didn't carry an umbrella because he liked the warm July rain that trickled down his forehead.  It gave him a reason to walk faster.

                Whenever Severus did pass a muggle on the street, the reaction was dramatic.  Most people stared.  A few people swerved at least a foot out of his way.  Some gasped.  There was one woman in particular whose hair was teased into a hard, golden ball who dropped her umbrella and flattened herself against the window of a cheap wig shop.  Snape didn't spare her a glance.  He had more important things to think about.

                Snape's destination was a tiny Chinese restaurant sandwiched between an old theater called the Warner Center and a Payless Shoe Store.  He pushed open a grungy, glass door and was met with the clashing smells of butterbeer, General Tsao's chicken, and caged animals.

                A young, Chinese waitress dressed in a red kimono approached him with a menu.  "You here for lunch, sir?"

                Severus shook his head and brushed past her through a small, dim dining room.  A few teenage boys sat around a table at the back of the room.  Severus could see their sacks of money lulling open on the table to reveal a small number of knuts.  They held their wands in tight fists, and were listing to a shaggy haired boy who sat huddled in the darkest shadow of the corner of the room.

                A boy with a crew cut and crooked teeth said in a whine, "Felix, we went to the Owlery yesterday."

                Felix answered with the condescending tone of command, "We aren't going to the Owlery, Butch.  I have a better place in mind."

                _There's trouble,_ Severus thought with the skill of a man who spends his life trying to thwart the mischief of children.  But he walked past them.  They weren't his responsibility.

                At the very back of the restaurant there were three lime green doors.  Two were restrooms, but the middle door had a picture of a red dragon curled around a castle.  Under the picture were the words Strangled Dragon Court.

                Severus touched the brass doorknob with his wand, and the door swung away to reveal a massive domed room lit with hundreds of torches.  It was an indoor market.  Eighty tables draped with blue and white silk formed a circle in the middle of the room.  The vendors at the tables sold exotic plants, quills in every color of the rainbow, designer robes, and anything else that Severus Snape would find completely useless. 

 On the outer edge of the market were more traditional shops, on their windows and doors hung advertisements for books of spells, pets and snacks.  He ignored the candy shop which advertised Super Adhesive Cotton Candy (catch your friends in a mass of pink goo).  He passed a Quidditch supply shop.  And he ignored a flashing sign that said, TRAINED DRAGONFLIES: Use as barrets, pins, and earings.

He reached his destination when he found a small wooden sign that said Bees, Bats and Beyond.  He pushed open a heavy wooden door and was greeted by a rush of cold air and the piercing shriek of a green and yellow parakeet.  "What do you want!" it shouted.

A female voice from the back room called, "Be nice, Geordi!"

A woman in her late twenties came dashing out of the back room.  She wore purple robes with thin, silver lapels and a large, frumpy, black sweater.  She wore fluffy, pink ear muffs over a mass of curling, black hair, and on her shoulder rode a large blue and white parrot.

Severus didn't recognize the woman, and snapped, "Where is Rex Buckley?"

The young woman frowned, "My father has retired.  I own this shop now."

"You?" he said.  His eyes narrowed as he glanced down at the silver mittens on her hands.

"Yes, me," she said with a forced smile.  She reached up and stroked the under belly of her parrot. "I carry all the ingredients my father carried plus nearly forty new items.  My prices are the same.  And my quality is better."

"Impossible," Severus said as he surveyed the cluttered state of the jars and bottles on their long dusty shelves.  "Rex had the finest quality products in North America."

"I beg your pardon, sir," the woman said, and he noticed that her cheeks were turning red.  "but it is possible.  You are more than welcome to inspect any of my products.  You will find them in perfect condition."

Severus felt a mounting frustration.  If he couldn't make his potion, his life would be nearly impossible to endure.  He prayed that this eccentric woman wasn't bluffing.  "Very well.  Let me see your inventory list."

The woman reached under her counter and produced a thick piece of parchment.  She tapped it twice and slid it across the counter.  

                He examined the list.  There were two neatly written columns of ingredients organized by alphabet, and beside each product was a short description of the ingredient's most useful qualities.  The helpful list was new, but anyone could doodle on a piece of parchment.  It took a rare witch to grasp the subtle science of potion making.

                "Ash of Stonehenge…" he said slowly, "Who brewed this for you?"

                The woman lifted her chin and the parrot on her shoulder flapped its wings.  "I did.  I went on a buying trip three months ago and stopped at Stonehenge specifically for that reason."

                Severus stared into the woman's blue eyes, watching for any signs of deception.  "I suppose you collected the ash after the fifth day of burning."

                The woman snorted.  "You're trying to trick me, but it won't work.  I collected the ash after the 31st day of burning.  I keep the ash in a clay pot and it never touches any ivy or rat tail."

                Severus nodded.  His eyes scanned down the page to the item he was most in need of.   "I'm looking for a calming agent.  Something to clear the mind.  I've tried Gusper root and the hair of sloth, but I find their effects unsatisfying."

                There was a flash of understanding in the woman's blue eyes.  Her lips curled into a knowing grin.  "You're Professor Snape!  And you always buy a year's worth of Soothing Sand."  She chuckled and lifted the parrot off her shoulder with the air of someone who has the upper hand in an argument..  She set the bird down on the counter and scattered a few crackers in front of its beak.  "There you go, Lestat."  The parrot gave a loud, satisfied squawk and lowered its beak to the crackers.  Arleea looked back up at Severus with a challenge in her eyes.  "You're afraid I can't duplicate my father's technique.  But I assure you, I can."

                Severus watched her walk across the small room.  She climbed a four step ladder and said, "Soothing Sand."  The ladder began walking a few feet to the left where there was a sign that said "Rare and important."  The black haired woman leaned over the ladder and rummaged through a cramped shelf of paper bags, glass bottles, and woven baskets.

                As she was pulling a clay pot towards her, the shop door opened and the parakeet perched nearby screamed, "What do you want?"

                Arleea glanced towards the door and groaned.  The three thugs who harassed the market nearly every day had strutted into her shop.

                "The Dark Arts shop is four doors down, Felix," she called.  "I don't have anything for you here."

                She saw the shaggy haired boy look Professor Snape up and down.  He seemed to like what he saw because he grinned and swatted his wand at her parakeet.  Geordi squealed and flew into the backroom.

                _Great_, she thought, _I get to tackle the rug rats while Mr. Death stands around critiquing my inventory._  She sighed and tried to think of a spell that would scare the hell out of Felix.

                The two other boys chuckled.  Felix walked a few steps to position himself under her ladder.  "But we just came to find out if you sell those earmuffs you're always wearing."

                Arleea pushed the clay pot back away from the edge of the shelf, but stayed on her ladder.  She looked down her nose at the skinny, dirty young man.  He didn't meet her gaze.  "I can give you a pair of these earmuffs, but I'm not sure you know enough magic to get them off again."

                The boy with the crew cut took a step back, and said, "Come on, Felix, let's go.  She's pretty smart."

But Felix just rested an elbow on the third rung of Arleea's ladder and said, "Is that a threat?"

                "Absolutely."  Arleea waved her wand and said "Boilibus Digitus."  The teen jerked his steaming hand away from the ladder with a yelp.  "Now get out of my store before I have to get nasty."

                The boy's eyes narrowed into slits.  His head turned in the direction of the counter where Severus stood reading the inventory list and the parrot stood crunching his crackers.  "No, I don't think we'll be leaving yet."  The boy grinned back at his friends.  "Hey, Nick, have you heard the dicing spell my mother uses to cut up chickens?"  The third boy, who wore a Pirate's baseball cap and had freckles all over his nose, nodded his head with pleasure.  Felix continued, "Be a shame if something like that happened to one of these birds one night."

                Professor Snape slapped the parchment onto the counter which in turn scared the parrot into flight.  Snape's expression had turned from calm disdain to a mask of deadly intent.  He took one step towards Felix and reached out his long arm as quick as lightening and grabbed the boy around the throat.

                He leaned over the struggling teen and said in the most threatening of whispers, "Have you heard of the curse that turns your skin inside out?  How about the one where your teeth melt together?"  Arleea saw spittle fly from Snape's lips to Felix's cheek.  "Or my personal favorite, the one where your organs explode one by one until you die?" 

Severus smiled at the boy who had begun to shake.  Nick and Butch were staring at Snape as if he were a demon come to flay them alive.  "I don't think anyone would care if you were never heard from again, so don't think that I would hesitate to turn you into a mass of quivering slime."  He paused a moment and simply stared at Felix.  The boy was turning purple from lack of oxygen. 

 "Now," said Snape, "I suspect the lady is quite capable of protecting herself from worms like you, but I'm going to cast a spell that will let me know if you've set one foot inside this shop."  He leaned closer to Felix, "Do you want to know what will happen if you come back here?"

                "No!" shouted Butch.

                "What about you, worm?" Snape said to Felix, their noses nearly touching.  "Are you going to give me a reason to use my favorite curse?"

                Felix shook his head.

                "Then go," said Snape, and he dropped his hand from the boy.  The shaggy haired boy stood gasping for breath. 

 "Now!" Snape bellowed.

                The two closest to the door pushed their way out and Felix ran out behind them.

                When the door banged shut, Snape turned towards Arleea and said softly, "You were saying you can duplicate your father's technique?"

                Arleea swallowed and glanced at the clay pot of soothing sand.  "You do know that using this on a daily basis can make a person a little…edgy."

                "I'll need three pounds," he said and picked up the inventory list again.

                Arleea felt an urge to laugh bubbling inside her belly.  "I thought you were going to kill them."  She stifled the urge to laugh, but couldn't keep herself from grinning.  "Professor, you have to let me thank you."

                He didn't look up.  "For what?"

                Arleea rolled her eyes and grabbed the pot of soothing sand.  As she climbed down the ladder she said, "For scaring away those little twirps.  I really would have had to hurt them before they'd leave me alone."

                Snape shrugged.

                Arleea frowned.  "Why'd you do it?"

                Severus ran a hand through his damp hair.  "I was edgy."

                Arleea laughed in spite of herself.  "Well, whatever your reasoning, you helped me out a great deal."  She walked across the room and set the sand down on the counter.  "There has to be a way I can thank you."  She snapped her fingers as an idea came to her.  "Let me make you dinner."

                The professor set the parchment down on the counter.  "Listen, Miss…?"

                "Arleea Buckley."

                "Miss Buckley," Snape finished.  "You don't need to thank me.  I'm in a bit of a hurry."

                "You'll have to eat dinner somewhere, and my cooking is as good as my potion making skills."  She winked.  "You know you want to have dinner with me."

Snape's frown was enough to make Arleea wonder why she was pushing so hard, but his next words set her completely at ease.  "Miss Buckley, I'm not the best of dinner companions."

                "Professor Snape," Arleea said with a confidential smile, "if you know how to use Soothing Sand in a way that won't kill you, then you are exactly the kind of dinner companion I like to have."

                He hesitated a moment.

                "You can grill me about my qualifications to run this shop," she said, but he remained silent.  Then with every bit of charm she possessed, she added, "I'll tell you about my trip to South Africa.  That's mainly where my new products came from."

                She saw his eyes rest on her earmuffs.  She blushed and took them off.  A ghost of a smile touched his lips.  "Come on?" she said.

                "You're very irritating," he snapped.  "What time is this fabulous dinner?"

                "Ha!  Great!"  she said and then looked around her shop.  "Now's as good a time as any.  It's nearly four.  Come on.  I have to do a bit of shopping, and then we're off to my apartment."

                "You probably wonder why I'm wearing all this stuff," she said.  Arleea took off her sweater and mittens with an apology.  "I can't get used to the cold rooms of potion making.  I've been around it all my life, and still I freeze.  I must look like a lunatic, but it's better than getting a cold."

                The professor didn't comment, but she saw his eyes follow her around the room.  She wondered what thoughts hid behind those dark eyes.  "I have to give the birds some food, and then we can leave."

                Severus climbed the steps to Arleea's apartment with a sense of foreboding.  The woman chattered on about the weather, the food she was buying, her pets, and anything else that popped into her mind.  He wasn't quite sure what he was doing in her company.

                But he did know that with the winter clothing gone, she was very pretty.  The men in the grocery store had noticed.  Their heads turned as she went by.  But she didn't seem particularly aware of her beauty.  She smiled at anyone who gave her a sideways glance.  She talked to the caretaker of her building for a few minutes before they climbed the stairs.  If he hadn't seen her in the dusty potions store, he would have imagined her as the socialite wife of a rich wizard.

                Severus followed Arleea into her apartment and was only mildly surprised.  The clutter he had expected was not apparent, and no menagerie of animals greeted him at the door.  But the living room was happy and comfortable as he had expected.  There was an over stuffed, mauve couch and two matching chairs in the center of the room..  There were pretty knick-knacks on the shelves and coffee tables, and above the fireplace was a wall of pictures full of smiling and waving people who bore a family resemblance to Arleea.

                "The kitchen's over there to your right," Arleea said as she shook out an umbrella she'd been carrying.  "Can you just set those bags down by the sink?"

                Severus walked through a small archway and found a kitchen full of plants.  There were spider plants by the bay window, basil plants by the sink, and there was a tall, thin tree by the kitchen table.  And behind the tree lay a speckled black and white cat.

                "A menagerie," Severus muttered.

                Arleea followed him into the kitchen.  "There you are, Shelley," she said to the cat.  "Come here, sweetie."

                Severus set the groceries down on the counter and began to pull out French bread, cheddar cheese, and an assortment of vegetables.  He felt out of place.  _I should be heading for England, not playing bag boy to this crazy American woman._  But out of the corner of his eye, he watched the woman kneel down and scratch the cat behind the ears.  Shelley arched his back and rubbed against her knees._._

                "Did you ever think about caring for magical creatures, Miss Buckley?" he asked.

                "Yep," Arleea said as she stood.  "but I've always liked small animals.   I can keep them in my house better.  Besides, with a dad like mine, you live and breath potions.  You talk about them at dinner.  You experiment on the weekends.  You take vacations to find rare ingredients.  I have a brother who teaches potions at the Erie Institute."  She took out her wand and aimed it at an onion which immediately began shucking its outer layer.  "I was destined to be a potions mistress."

                "Who can't stand the cold of a potions storage room?" he added.

                Arleea smiled.  "Yeah, my brother makes fun of my earmuffs too.  But I've done everything I can think of to stay warm, short of setting my nose on fire.  Nothing works.  Dad says I have water for blood."

Severus watched her order the food about with her wand.  She seemed completely at ease with him standing in her kitchen.  He wondered how she could trust him so easily.  He wondered if she was naïve. 

He looked around the brightly lit kitchen once more.   He thought of his own small quarters at Hogwarts, dark and chilly.  The only decorations in that room were his books and some magical relics he kept on hand for emergencies.

                Arleea looked over at him.  "There's some wine in that ice chest over there.  It might be a little sweet for you, but you're welcome to pour yourself a glass."  She smiled at him.  "There are glasses in that top cupboard there."

                Severus glanced at the cupboard.  He didn't think drinking with this happy little witch was such a good idea.

                Arleea cleared her throat.  "You look mad.  You're not going to attack my cupboard, are you?"

                "Hardly," he said and walked to the ice chest.  _What the hell,_ he thought,_ no one knows this woman, and she doesn't know anyone from Hogwarts._

                "That's better."  Arleea said.  She had managed to create quite a salad in only a few minutes.  "Pour me a glass, will you?"

                He uncorked the Riesling and found two wine glasses in her cupboard.  He sniffed the wine.  "Good lord, you weren't kidding.  This smells like a candy shop."

                "My brother keeps telling me to drink beer, but yuck."  She took the glass he handed her.  "I'd rather enjoy my alcohol."

                Severus sipped the wine and wrinkled his nose.  "Sugar," he said.

                Arleea chuckled.  "I guess I won't be making dessert for you."

                "How long before the chicken is done?" he asked as he watched feathers fly off the bird.  "I think your pets at the shop would hate to see you preparing dinner tonight."

                "Yeah," Arleea agreed with a smirk.  "Geordi would never speak to me again."  A drawer flew open and a knife danced about in the air, cutting and dicing at the chicken.  "This should be ready in about twenty minutes."

                Severus settled into a chair at the kitchen table.  He took another sip of his wine and resigned himself to the syrupy flavor.  "So tell me about Africa," he said.

Arleea realized that her dinner companion had relaxed.  Occasionally, throughout the meal, he even smiled.  He was telling her about an anti-cheating potion he had developed several years ago.

                "I suggested having it served inside the orange juice at breakfast," Severus said, "but Dumbledore said it spoiled the taste, and that the children would just avoid it."

                Arleea smiled, "You used angel fish scales, right?"

                "Mmmm, yes, and moth wings.  Shredded, not ground," he stated with a satisfied twist to his lips.

                Arleea chuckled.  "I imagine you make a mean truth serum."

                His eyes gleamed.  "I could make people betray their own grandmothers."

                Arleea shook her head.  "Most people don't understand the allure of potions.  They use them.  But they don't appreciate the power a potions master has over them."  Arleea took a sip of her wine.  "Like some of my customers.  I sell the ingredients to make the most vicious poisons, but is anyone afraid of me?  They just assume that I won't slip something vile into their love potions.  They even yell and scream if a potion can't work a miracle.  I have one wizard who keeps buying hair growing tonic, and he keeps yelling cause it doesn't work.  I'm talking a ninety year old wizard."  She snorted.  "There are just some things even magic can't do!"

                Severus pushed his hair back behind his ears.  "How do you find the patience?  At least I can give out detentions.  I can't tell you the number of boys I get a year who try to make a muscle building potion, but they end up the size of a house instead.  They don't want to take the time to learn anything."

                "How did you get interested in potions?" Arleea asked.

                He drew a long breath.  "I had a good teacher.  She would yell herself hoarse if you didn't do your homework right.  She gave out detentions like water, but by God, you learned something in her class."

                "I bet you're a brute of a teacher," she said with a grin.

                "I'm strict," he said with his chin up.

                Arleea laughed.  "I couldn't be a teacher.  No one would learn anything from me cause I'd just want to play with the kids all day."

                Severus looked like he had swallowed something bitter.  "Children don't play at Hogwarts."

                "Oh," Arleea said, and kept all her sarcastic comments to herself.  She didn't think Severus was the kind of man who liked to be teased.

                She watched him take a bite of bread.  All of his movements were precise and controlled, and there was a good deal of grace to the way he held his back stiff and his chin high.  _Rigid_, she thought, _but intense._  She admitted to herself that despite some of his obvious faults, she was attracted to him.

Arleea leaned back in her chair and pushed her dinner plate away. "Oh man, am I stuffed."

                "You're a good cook," Severus said as he took a second helping of cheddar potatoes.

                "Thanks."  Arleea rested her chin on her hand.  "And you are much better company then you give yourself credit for."

                His expression darkened.  "No.  I'm not.  You don't know me."

                Arleea frowned, "I thought I was getting to know you.  I thought that's what we were doing."

                She saw his shoulders tighten.  "This is just dinner."

                The words stung.  The evening would soon be over, and he would go back to England.  She knew that, but she had thought maybe…she hardly knew what she thought.  She said, "If this is just dinner, then why did you have to ruin it by sulking?"

                Severus's eyes narrowed.  She waited for angry words to spill from his lips.  His eyes certainly spoke of repressed anger, but he said, "You're right.  I'm sorry."

                Arleea stared at Severus for a full minute.  The lighter mood of dinner was gone now, and she was sorry.  But her curiosity was raging.  "What do you do with the soothing sand?  What is it you need to forget?"

                Severus pushed his plate away, his potatoes lay unfinished.  "Don't ask me questions.  There's not much I can answer."

                "What could be so secretive about the life of a professor?" she asked.

                "Don't, Miss Buckley.  I have to leave."  He stood.

                Arleea felt the first pangs of disappointment.  "If this is what you meant by being bad company, then you were right."

                Severus gazed down at the angry blue eyes of his host.  If he left now, she would remember him like most people did, strange, rude, and unkind. 

 _It's better this way,_ he thought.

                But there was an ache in his gut.  With his left arm burning, he knew a long battle lay before him.  If Voldemort caught him, his life would be over, and there would be very few people who cared.

                He sat back down.  "Listen, Arleea," he said and watched her expression turn to intense curiosity.  "I'm serious.  I can't explain anything.  But I've," he hesitated, "I've…"

                "Had a good time tonight?" Arleea finished for him.

                "It's more than that," he said briskly.  "I want someone to, I want _you_ to know—"  He stopped abruptly.  "This is impossible."

                Arleea looked down at the tablecloth.  She ran her index finger along the edge of the table.  When she finally looked up, she asked,  "What do you want from me?"

                "Nothing."  He sat back in misery.  "I just…,"  He rubbed a hand over his forehead.  "I can't expect…."

                Severus saw Arleea stand.  He watched her walk around the table.  The word _stop_ formed in his head, but he didn't open his mouth.  She kneeled in front of him and took his hand in hers.  He felt weak, sick.  His stomach churned and his head began to pound.

                When he spoke next, the truth tumbled forth.  "Voldemort is coming back.  I feel his presence."

                Arleea exclaimed, "How could that be?  I thought Harry Potter—"

                Severus shook his head.  "Voldemort lost his power, but he survived."

                He saw the horror spread across her face.  She asked, "But how can you feel him?"

                Severus took a deep breath and lifted his sleeve to reveal the mark.  She gasped and stared up at him, her expression begging for an explanation.  "I used to be a Death Eater."

                The words hung in the air.  He watched her expression change from shock to revulsion to confusion, but she didn't let go of his hand.  "Used to be?"

                "I confessed to Albus Dumbledore before Voldemort's confrontation with Mr. Potter."  Arleea didn't say anything.  He continued, "So you see, anyone near me is in danger.  If I wanted anything from you, eventually you would be tracked down and destroyed."

                He could see the fear in her eyes.  Her skin had lost some of it's pink color.

                He couldn't make himself pull free from her grasp. "Miss Buckley, I wish I had never come here tonight.  I know better than to let down my guard."  

                "You must have a lot of horrible memories," she said, her voice shaking.

                A bitter smile appeared on his face.  "An understatement, Miss Buckley."

                "And you use the sand to keep yourself from feeling anything?" she whispered.

                Severus closed his eyes.  "It helps with most emotions."

                "Why did you tell me all this?" she asked in a gentle voice.

                He felt exhausted, so much so that he wanted to lean his head on her shoulder.  But he held his head straight and said, "Because I've run out of soothing sand, and without it I start to feel again." 

                "How lonely," she said.  He didn't deny it. Arleea lifted her right hand and slid it against his cheek.  Her hand was warm and sure.  The ache in his gut blossomed into a fire.  He would have to leave this feeling behind.  There were tasks that only he could perform.  There was an upcoming war that could be more devastating than the last.  Disappearances, deaths.   

                He gazed into the tender blue eyes of this trusting woman, and he imagined how she'd look after facing the Death Eaters.  He wrenched his face away from her hand.

                "I'm sorry," he said.  "I have to leave.  For your own good."

                He stood, but she didn't let go of his hand.  She stood and took a step closer to him.  She was inches away.  Their joined hands hung between them.

                He stared at her face and felt a powerful attraction to her.  Her eyes gave him permission to come closer.  Her lips quivered, and her hand squeezed his.  A slight movement on his part would bring her into his arms.

                He pulled away and heard her gasp.  He turned his back.

                "Don't go." she said.

                He said nothing.

                "Can I write to you?  Anything?"  Her voice was thick with confusion and desire.

                He resisted the urge to run from her, and he resisted the urge to turn back.  He wanted to slam his fist into a wall.  He wanted to shout about the injustice of life.  He wanted to cry.

                But he held his back stiff.  "Goodbye."

                He began to walk to the door.

                "Wait."  The tone of command in her voice stopped him, and made him turn around.  She wasn't crying.  She held her head high, and he knew that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

                She took one step closer and said, "I don't know what your life has been like.  And I trust you when you say there can't be anything between us, but," She took another step towards him.  "no man can live completely alone.  If you ever need anything, I'll be here."

                She was the picture of strength.  A vision of what his life might have been like unfolded before his eyes.  He could have had a wall of smiling family pictures, numerous animals and plants to keep him company, and the warm hand of a pretty, dark haired woman pressed against his cheek.

                "Thank you," he whispered.  He turned and walked out of the apartment.  He held a hand tight against his stomach, resisting the urge howl out his fury.

                When he reached the street, he disapparated as far away from her as his magic would take him.


End file.
